hame of having
to confess that it is not above human praise. The only true criticism
of high art is silence--silence as grand as heaven itself."

He spoke with energy, and his dark eyes flashed. Amy (Mrs. Everard)
looked at him curiously.

"Say now!" she exclaimed, with a ringing laugh, "aren't you a little
bit eccentric, signor? You talk like a long-haired prophet! I never met
an artist before who couldn't stand praise; it is generally a matter of
wonder to me to notice how much of that intoxicating sweet they can
swallow without reeling. But you're an exception, I must admit. I
congratulate you!"

Cellini bowed gaily in response to the half-friendly, half-mocking
curtsey she gave him, and, turning to me again, said:

"I have a favour to ask of you, mademoiselle. Will you sit to me for
your portrait?"

"I!" I exclaimed, with astonishment. "Signor Cellini, I cannot imagine
why you should wish so to waste your valuable time. There is nothing in
my poor physiognomy worthy of your briefest attention."

"You must pardon me, mademoiselle," he replied gravely, "if I presume
to differ from you. I am exceedingly anxious to transfer your features
to my canvas. I am aware that you are not in strong health, and that
your face has not that roundness and colour formerly habitual to it.
But I am not an admirer of the milkmaid type of beauty. Everywhere I
seek for intelligence, for thought, for inward refinement--in short,
mademoiselle, you have the face of one whom the inner soul consumes,
and, as such, may I plead again with you to give me a little of your
spare time? YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT, I ASSURE YOU."

These last words were uttered in a lower tone and with singular
impressiveness. I rose from my seat and looked at him steadily; he
returned me glance for glance, A strange thrill ran through me,
followed by that inexplicable sensation of absolute calm that I had
before experienced. I smiled--I could, not help smiling.

"I will come to-morrow," I said.

"A thousand thanks, mademoiselle! Can you be here at noon?"

I looked inquiringly at Amy, who clapped her hands with delighted
enthusiasm.

"Of course! Any time you like, signor. We will arrange our excursions
so that they shall not interfere with the sittings. It will be most
interesting to watch the picture growing day by day. What will you call
it, signor? By some fancy title?"

"It will depend on its appearance when completed," he replied, as he
threw open the d